Page 143 of Queen of War and Ruin

And to the creature on the far bank.

It’s dark, and long, and it’s looking directly at us. I frown as I try to make sense of the serpentine curves of its seated body.

An otter? No. A fox? No.

It’s nothing I’ve seen before, and yet somehow, it feels almost familiar. Sunlight dances off the water as it tumbles down the mountain and catches in the mist, making rainbows that rise and fall before the creature’s ebony legs.

The animal tilts its head and blinks two massive silver eyes. They look like twin moons shining against the midnight darkness of its body.

Nothing has eyes like that. No creature of this world.

I shiver again; magic swirls across my skin, light and delicate, like silk and velvet. Nothing like the crackling fury of what Varitan threw at me. Magic. A different kind of magic, wild and free.

Some part of my mind whispers that I need to tell my wife what happened with Varitan, about breaking glass and silver chains. About the palace wall that I somehow tore down to protect her.

Lilias whispers something that I slowly recognize as a prayer. The creature tilts its head in the other direction, blinks again, and then shakes. Tendrils of dark fog rise from its body as the creature stretches impossibly long limbs out against the rocks.

And then it turns and flows away, running downhill like the river, until its shadowy body is entirely swallowed by the willow bushes on the far bank. I exhale slowly and wonder how long I’ve been holding my breath. The world comes back, the sound of the river, the whisper of grass bowing to the wind.

“Oh, my gods,” Lilias gasps. She turns to me with tears running down her cheeks. “Did you see it?”

I nod. My mouth feels dry.

“Anura’s mother said there was still magic in these mountains,” she says, in a soft, reverent voice. “She said, if you were very, very lucky, you might one day see a mountain spirit.”

“My mother called them old gods,” I whisper.

I never knew if she was teasing me, telling me to watch for the old gods when Petrys, Gerrart, and I went into the mountains to pick raspberries. Telling me they moved like shadows, and they would keep children safe in the wilderness.

I slide my dagger back into its sheath. Something feels strange⁠—

Lilias laughs. I turn to my wife as she wipes the tears from her cheeks and beams at me.

“They’re never going to believe us,” she finally says, with a wild grin.

“No,” I agree. “They’re not.”

Lilias takes my hand, and we walk together through the meadow, our fingers interlaced, the horses grazing around us, the clouds dancing above, and the old god of the mountains watching us with wide, silver eyes from its secret den.

It’s only once we reach the trees that I realize what felt strange when I slid my dagger back into its sheath. It’s the silver chain in my pocket, the one I took from Varitan’s table in Vsenrog. When I used it to break the window, the magic trapped in that metal burned and made my gut twist. But now, it’s cool against my fingers.

And, when I brush the metal links, magic flows into my skin like water pouring down the mountain.

Chapter 71

Zarek

WARNING ME

The river shines below us, sparkling with the last of the day’s light as it curves around Detec. I glance over at Gerard as his horse picks its way down the mountain. Lilias examined his hoof this evening and declared that we should be able to ride into the hunting lodge tonight. Gerard woke us up this evening grumbling and saying we should get started before we lose the light, but it seemed like it took a very long time for him and Petrys to truly pack up camp. The stars were sparkling in the sky by the time we actually pushed out of the dense pine grove. It was almost like neither one of them wanted to leave.

Not that I’m going to say a damn thing about it. Not to either one of them.

Gerard mutters something under his breath, then turns to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened,” he says.

He stares at me with an expression that’s probably supposed to be intimidating. I tighten my grip on my reins to keep from laughing. I have no idea what he hasn’t forgotten, so of course my mind fills in the single most inappropriate explanation, even though there’s no way he’s talking about what we’re all pretending didn’t happen between him and my brother.